


Kaleidoscopic

by ronniedae



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Colors, Fluff, Love, M/M, Relationship(s), Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Colour AU, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 02:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10584072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronniedae/pseuds/ronniedae
Summary: (or; his eyes are puddles and coffee cups)It comes after he meets Otabek Altin for the first time; and it's the colour of his coffee the morning of his record-breaking short programme. Watching the drop of cream swirl in to the dark roast; varying shades of brown distract him from the rest of his breakfast.Yuri is mesmerised.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A Colour-based Soulmate AU where you slowly start to see colours from the moment you first meet your soulmate. Certain colours will sometimes take over based on your emotions.

**Kaleidoscopic (or; his eyes are puddles and coffee cups)**

The day Yuuri Katsuki meets his soulmate, he sees a brilliant red. It's altogether warm and inviting and fierce. It's slapped on the jacket of his future-husband and then it spends most of lifetime slapped on his face; giving his cheeks a semi-permanent rosy hue. Viktor Nikiforov is all blues; the dark hue of Yuuri's glasses and the cyan on his phone case. He feels like the only person in the world to have seen Hatetsu's ocean at its finest. 

It comes after he meets Otabek Altin for the first time; and it's the colour of his coffee the morning of his record-breaking short programme. Lilia is ranting on about how _"a growing young man shouldn't fill his body with such filth"_. But Yuri is mesmerised. Watching the drop of cream swirl in to the dark roast; varying shades of brown distract him from the rest of his breakfast. 

He notices it for the rest of the day and wonders how a colour he has only heard described as 'dull' could be so beautiful. His world is flickering to life in dirty puddles and broken bark on trees. 

Then he sees it again, when he’s so out of breath he fears his lungs may collapse. He’s not even looking for him, not really. But there he is; standing on the edge of the rink with a smile softer than snowdrops.

And it’s in his eyes. Clearer than it has been all day. Glinting gold and amber and Yuri’s figures it’s the warmest thing he’s ever seen.

\---

The next time he sees it, it’s Otabek's skin; again, he is left dumbfound. This time, it's the colours of the freckles on his nose from summers spent in the Kazakh heat. He’s walking along the shorefront with his newfound friend, who seems fascinated by every bit of foliage they come across.

“Otabek?” He questions, leaving the question linger in the cold and thick Barcelona air.

Otabek seems to understand though, as he thumbs the leaf, turning it over in his hand. "I just... really like plants."

Yuri almost scoffs at the odd remark; "Why?"

"Ah..." Otabek trails off, as if he's not sure he should tell him. Yuri nudges his arm a little, impatient for an answer. "I can just... see them, is all"

"What do you mean?"

"Well... for a while now, I can see the leaves. The colour, I mean." Otabek lets go of the leaf, the branch bounces slightly. 

"Oh..." Yuri trails off, looking away. "I could see my coffee this morning."

"Ah! Yura!" Yuri turns back to Otabek, and nearly doubles over at the smile on his new friend's face. "That's wonderful, do you know who it is?" 

Yuri is too busy trying to catch his breath to answer straight away. He can see the soft pink on Otabek’s lips; the cold weather had stained his cheeks and ears and nose the same colour. It's light and inviting and all together… "Ah... I'm not sure. You?"

"I have an idea-" Otabek leans forward to tuck Yuri's hair behind his ear, he stops, suddenly, and Yuri furrows his brows at the look on the older boy’s face. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah-” Otabek runs his hands through his hair and pulls on his scarf. “Nothing… I just saw another colour.”

Then Yuri is beaming and it’s Otabek’s turn to see cheeks flush pink. “Really? What is it?”

“You’re blond.” The words stumble out of his mouth as Yuri’s turn the brightest green he’s ever seen. Then he smiles wider, and his cheeks get pinker.

Yuri pulls his hair in front of his eyes, trying to force himself to see the colour too. Otabek laughs, and Yuri swears the world turned magenta.

“C’mon, it’s getting cold. And you need to win gold tomorrow.”

He does. When they place the medal on his chest, he realises it’s not the first time he’s seen the colour.

\--

They head out together again, leaving JJ and Isabella with stunned expressions in the hotel lobby. Interactions are already effortlessly wordless between them; as Otabek hands Yuri his helmet and puts his keys in the ignition.

Yuri had no idea that black wasn’t simply black. Otabek revs the motorcycle to life and the different panels turn onyx and sable and raven along with the purr of the engine. He speeds up, and Yuri wraps his arms around a jacket that’s suddenly ebony. Then Otabek’s gloves are obsidian when he helps him off.

He’s been fumbling with the clasp on his helmet for nearly a full five moments when Otabek leans down to help. Oil-stained fingers graze against his chin and motion sends him leaning forward. He’s staring at his nails; trimmed and manicured when Otabek’s scarf pops to life.

It’s still a few weeks before he spots his eyes in the mirror; fading chartreuse to the same juniper of Otabek’s scarf.

 

* * *

 

 

Six months after Yuri’s seen his first colour; he’s seen them all. Every morning he wakes up and the world bursts to life. He’s been dragged out for dinner with _the goddamn Katsudon_ – he’s asking him to pick the colours for his free programme and Yuri doesn’t care much because he loves them all.

Right now though, it’s the azure blue notification of a new message that makes his hands shake and cheeks rosette.

Yuuri smiles, knowing that all too familiar feeling. “So your soulmate is Otabek, then?”

“Huh?” Yuri looks up from his phone, brows knotted in confusion.

“Oh. Sorry, Yuri. I thought you knew?” Yuuri looks sheepish, scratching the back of his head and leaning away from the table.

Then in an instant, it makes sense. The amber-brown eyes and the juniper-green scarf. How black stopped being just black the moment he hopped on the back of his bike after walking along the seafront. “ _Oh_.”

They’re both still and quiet, for what feels like the longest moment. Yuri’s message notification flickers between cobalt and frost.

“D-do you think he knows?”

“Oh! Um-” Yuuri sighs deeply, staring at the boy before him, unsure of what to say. “Ah-I’d imagine he does.”

“Okay.” Yuri twirls his pasta around his fork uninterestedly, mulling over the realisation as the world takes on a sangria hue. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Does the world change colour, for you?” The question is innocent, and Yuri is all agape eyes.

Yuuri beams back at him. “Yes! It’s doing that already for you?”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s a reflection of your emotions in the moment; it doesn’t usually last long.”

Yuri slumps down in his chair as he spots the raindrops turning to a spruce-blue as they make their way down the window pane. He spends the rest of the evening lost in his own thoughts, with his thumb lingering over Otabek’s message icon.

He’s still awake at 3am when he resigns himself not to say anything; after all, it was common enough for people to reject their soulmate and let the world turn back to shades of grey again. And it made sense – Otabek hadn’t uttered a word to him about any colours since that night on the promenade in Barcelona. Yuri had never been bothered before, anyway, and if Otabek didn’t want him, then Yuri didn’t want anyone.

So he resigns himself to a life without colour.

\--

It’s been nearly a month since they last spoke, and Yuri is finding that his salmon pointes have clouded over, and his boysenberry bomber jacket has faded to ash.

He has a text from Otabek and the world bursts like a meadow of wildflowers; marigold orange and daffodil yellow, poppy red and fuscia pink.

He collapses on the bench in the changing room, legs weak and hands shaking. The message pops pomegranate and crimson, and simply reads –

_I’m coming to St. Petersburg._

\--

“Beka.” The name spills from his lips and dyes his cheeks and the sky the colour of rosewood.

“Yura.” He enveloped by a boy that smells like sandalwood and cigarettes, and colours find their saturation again. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” He feels Otabek deflate in his arms.

“I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think you’d want to know.”

Yuri wraps his arms around Otabek’s shoulders, and lifts his heels from the floor to stand on his toes. “Why on Earth would you think that?” He breathes in to his ear.

The busy hustle of the airport blends in to a spectrum of colours that Yuri can’t quite make out. His tears are already staining Otabek’s shirt as he attempts to subtilize the sobs. Then he is lifted and years of ballet practice finally find their use as Otabek’s arms wrap tighter around him.

“I haven’t a clue.” Then all either of them can see is peach pink.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Otabek says it, they’re in his Grandfather’s kitchen one morning just after Yuri turns eighteen; his hands and forearms are covered in soap suds as he washes the dishes from a late lunch. He’s staring out the window, frown pressing in to his dimpled cheeks as he spots the rolling storm clouds.

Otabek appears in the doorway; tired and jet-lagged but he’s smiling anyway. He takes the tea-towel that’s been thoughtlessly draped over the oven door and dries Yuri’s hands with every care in the world. Then Yuri’s leaning up against him, chests flush against each other. Hands and arms lost; wrapped around waists and buried in hair. Otabek lifts Yuri’s chin, and runs his thumb along his cherry stained lips.

He supplies nothing but a hushed _I love you_ and the world turns strawberry pink. 

\--

The sky is whipped full of papaya orange and honey-butter yellow when Yuri is sipping his morning coffee. He’s not sure why at first, but it makes sense when Otabek leans across the café table and kisses him for the first time.

His tongue and lips and teeth are sweet. It leaves Yuri tasting and tugging his bottom lip with his teeth until the fire in the sky burns down.

\--

The first time they have sex, the world is a dark plum. They chuck each other's names back and forth; rolling off their tongues like crushed velvet and winter berries. 

It’s almost ethereal; the feeling and the colours. They lay panting; spent and satisfied. Long after Otabek dazes off, Yuri is wide awake. He’s lost in the indigo blue of Otabek’s veins and the penny-peppered freckles along his collarbone.

He soon learns to live for these moments; lost in a periwrinkle daze with violets on his tongue. And no matter the time of day, the sun or moon glints grapefruit.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been a few years, now. And Yuri has seen the world through a kaleidoscope. They’re lying in bed, and he’s tracing the pattern on their throw; looking at the colours bleeding and blending. He can remember the exact moment he saw each one for the first time.

But sometimes, Yuri blinks and the world clicks black and white again. Another blink, and it’s iridescence returns. He’s never sure why. And he never thinks to mention to anyone. Even now, as his fingertip was tracing the primrose swirls on his pillowcase. A lazy morning blink and they’re alabaster.

Then Otabek is turning him over, peppering kisses down his neck and shoulders; the sky is a soft mint.

And the pillowcase is forgotten.  

\--

Nothing that Yuri has ever done has been easy. But this is – Otabek is. Scrambled colours that merge and bleed like the bedsheet fall in to lines. Clear and defined.

They completely fall away when Otabek asks him to marry him.

They’re back in Barcelona; Yuri was determined to see Park Guell in all its polychromatic glory, and he does. He’s tracing his fingertips along the teal and sapphire fragments, lost in the pear and parakeet mosaic. Then it comes, simple and forthright.

“Marry me?”

Then the world is pearl, and cotton, and daises. It’s ivory chiffon and the parchment porcelain of Otabek’s favourite teacup.

The world is pure white, and Yuri decides that he loves it.

 

* * *

 

 

The world is losing its colour. 

Yuri doesn't notice it immediately when he wakes up, stirred by the absence of heat. He was no idea that the LED screen of their bedside alarm is no longer glowing a bright fluorescent green. Similarly, he doesn't notice when he stumbles in to the shower; groggy and sleep deprived when he grabs the bottle of shampoo which is no longer an intrusive shade of watermelon pink.

You'd think he'd notice when making his morning coffee; the cream no longer swirling the dark coffee to rich, chocolate life. But he doesn't. Nor does he catch the deep purple hues missing from his blueberry muffin. Or that the tin of cat food is no longer painted yellow and orange. 

He notices when he opens the door to find the police, though, with their hats in their hands and frowns pressed deep in to their cheeks. And instead of disappearing in flickers of colour, his whole world snaps to black and white. It's sudden, as if it hadn't been happening all morning.

It shatters him. 

\--

It takes him nearly five years to finally visit Otabek's grave. He's spent half a decade in a sort of secluded darkness. The world as monochromatic as his heart. He finally makes the trek through the orangery and past the lime tree, and then down the steep, beaten path late on a Sunday afternoon. He's not even sure why; he didn't make the conscious decision to come here. But it was like his feet were forced to step over the river stones and around the reeds swiftly swinging in the gentle breeze. 

He doesn't even realise where he is until it is too late. Until he's on his knees; hands buried deep in the grass, pulling it from the dirt. 

Otabek's grave is surrounded by peonies; and he realises that this is the first time in his life that he’s ever seen crimson red.

Yuri decides that he hates it.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate this was meant to be a fluffy apology for 1,674 Days, but I live for angst.
> 
> Catch me on tumblr; @seeyounextlevel
> 
> Ronnie x


End file.
